


The Way I See You

by Simonsaysbaz



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Boys In Love, But mostly fluff, Insecure Simon, Internal Monologues, Kisses, M/M, No Wayward Son Spoilers, baz is a besotted sap, loads of fluff, plotting baz, post carry on, tooth rotting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simonsaysbaz/pseuds/Simonsaysbaz
Summary: Simon feels insecure about his looks and his weight and so Baz tries to make him feel better.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	The Way I See You

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! This is my first ever fic for Carry on and I love these boys so much and I really really hope that this fic doesn't suck because I'm scared that it's too cheesy or just plain bad and this isn't betad or anything so I probably missed some typos but I hope you enjoy anyway so yeah.

I noticed back in May.

It had been a couple of months since we defeated the Humdrum. Simon was staying with Bunce at her family's house and even though they'd both dropped out of Watford, and Simon had no magic and a _tail,_ and I could only see him during weekends, things were starting to go back to a semblance of normal.

Well, not _normal._

Normal would be me and Snow at the top of Mummers house, fighting about him leaving the window open. It would be him accusing me of plotting and me accusing him of general incompetence. It would be petty arguments and bickering and animosity and maybe a throw of hands.

Normal would be me pining after my straight Chosen One of a roommate and him remaining completely oblivious.

This is decidedly not _normal._

Because last night I slept in Simon Snow's arms. And I have done so, whenever I can, for the past couple of months because I'm _allowed_ to. Because he's my boyfriend.

 _Simon Snow is my boyfriend_.

Sometimes I still think I'm dreaming. I think I'll wake up one day and there he'll be, across the room in his own bed, only an arms length away and I wouldn't be able to touch him. And this entire thing would have been a lie made up by my desperate, lovesick mind in an attempt to accommodate for the fact that I'll never be able to have him.

Most times though, I know it's real. The way he touches me proves it. As do the words he says. And the way he looks at me.

I don't think I could ever have the guts to imagine Simon Snow looking at me like I'm cherished. Like I'm _loved._

He hasn't said those three little words yet though. Neither have I. But it brings a swell to my undead heart and a smile to my lips to realise that there is an almost definite _yet_ towards the end of that sentence.

Because we chose each other.

Because I love him so much that my chest _aches_ and my blood _heats_ and the mere thought of him feels like _lightning._

And he looks at me like I hung the stars.

But...

It physically pains me to know that Simon doesn't see himself the way that I see him.

He says that the coppery undertones of his hair makes him look like the off brand version of a redhead. I say it gives him that perfectly mesmerising glint in the daylight, the eye-catching kind that had you staring from yards away.

He says his freckles looks like someone sprinkled dirt all over him. I say it looks like he's dusted with cinnamon. It's sweet and alluring. He looks like something I want to eat.

He sees his moles as making him look poxed. I see them as constellations, a map of the stars painted across his lovely tawny skin. His entire body a canvas of the midnight sky.

I know I sound like a besotted sap. I can't help it. I _am._ It's Simon. _Simon._

We haven't gone further than snogging yet because one time, while we were getting pretty close to crossing that line, I slipped my hands under his shirt and started edging the hem upwards.

He froze and basically jumped away from me when he realised that I was trying to get his shirt off. I backed off immediately. I thought that I was maybe going to fast for him and I told him that we wouldn't have to do anything until he was completely ready, apology after apology leaving my mouth.  
He shook his head and made this noise that sounded like a cross between a nervous laugh and snort.

"It's not _that_ Baz... I want you. Like, _desperately."_ The relief I felt at his words was entirely short-lived.

"It's just that..." His words trailed off as he motioned towards himself with one hand and gave me a meaningful look. I gave him one right back, eyebrow cocked for emphasis.

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"This- I...Well I- I'm kind of _gross_ aren't I." He had this weird smile on his face. It was small and sad and I wanted to pull it right off.

I remember being absolutely confused. What did he mean ' _he was kind of gross'_? He'd just taken a shower about a half hour before the whole ordeal. I distinctly remember because he came out from Bunce's room wearing _joggers_ and smelling like _my shampoo_ and looking decidedly irresistible. It was the reason why I jumped him in the first place.

And I told him so. (Not the me jumping him bit, the him just taking a shower bit.)

He gave me a look that was usually reserved for him. It was one that said _you're-being-deliberately-thick-and-i'm-not-_  
_having-it._

"Come on Baz, you know that's not what I mean. (I really, really didn't.) _I'm_ gross. Me. _Simon."_

It was then that the realisation of what he was talking about hit me. I was simultaneously immensely heart broken and outrageously confused.

Where was this coming from? Simon never seemed to have a problem with his body image before, he didn't seem the type to care about his looks. Besides, I don't think I've ever seen Simon wear a shirt to sleep. That is, until last Christmas...

It's then that I reminded myself how much had truly changed since December. _Because_ of December.

I suddenly remember all those moments after he'd started eating again (He lost his appetite for a while.) (It was _heart shattering_ to see Simon Snow neglect a full plate of scones for hours on end until he was either force fed or it was taken away.) And he'd started gaining back weight and I was just so _happy_ about it that I couldn't help myself from poking and prodding and pinching at his tummy.

Or those times when Professor Bunce would joke about him becoming a permanent couch potato and him needing to go out for a jog.

I remembered the way he would start off laughing but then his expression would slip off into something gloomier and, what was in hindsight, self conscious.

I didn't put the pieces together then, though. I'd thought that maybe he'd remembered the events of Christmas and he was thinking about Ebb and the Mage and his magic. And so I tried to steer his mind away from those thoughts, distracting him with kisses and Doctor Who.

And he wouldn't look gloomy anymore. So I thought things were _fine._

And then a few months passed and it was suddenly May and Simon told me that he's scared that I'll leave him for someone who was a mage, someone who " _matched my power_ " and wasn't a " _has been_ ", as he put it. I wanted to scoff in his face and tell him that that would never happen. But that would have been terribly hypocritical of me. Because I know what it feels like.

I'm constantly paranoid that he's going to realise that he can do much, much better than me. That he'll realise that he doesn't want to be with some sulky, snob of a vampire or that he isn't actually interested in blokes (or maybe just _me)_ and he'd rather run off into the sunset with Wellbelove or some other mild mannered blonde instead.

So I understood where he was coming from. And even though I haven't been able to quench my own qualms, I tried to help him with his. And it worked. Well, to an extent.

I mean, me saying a couple of pretty words didn't exactly eradicate his fears but it seemed to have visibly lessened it. I was extraordinarily proud of myself.

I didn't know what to say about Simon thinking he was gross though...

I've never had any issues with my appearance. (Except maybe the whole thing with me being as white as paper and having an extra pair of teeth stored somewhere up my skull.) I've always known that I'm good looking. People have never shied away from complimenting my looks. _Simon_ has never shied away from complimenting my looks. ( One time I woke up to Simon kissing me all over my face and muttering " You're so beautiful." Over and over into my skin.) (I nearly cried.)

I couldn't imagine Simon, _my Simon_ , thinking he was anything short of perfect. He is literally the most gorgeous person I've ever seen in all my nineteen years on Earth.

And I told him so.

"Simon..." I placed my palm against his cheek and made him look into my eyes. Ordinary blue filled my vision.

"You are literally the most gorgeous person I have ever seen in my entire life. Inside and out. You're a wonderful person and you're _insanely_ fit and it is a constant struggle for me to keep it my pants and not jump you whenever I see you. (We were both blushing profusely at this point but I kept on going because he needed to know.) ( _He needs to know._ )

"You're my world, Simon. You're like the sun, warm and bright and glowing. You draw people in and you don't even know it. You're a marvel and whenever I look at you, I have to make a very conscious effort not to stare because the entirety of who you are, even sans magic, is so _compelling_ and _you_ and you're just so _beautiful,_ Simon. And I-" I paused briefly, I was choking up a bit. The sheer concept of Simon not seeing his own beauty was so overwhelmingly absurd to me.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

He hugged me then. Buried his face into my shoulder and clenched the back of my shirt tightly. I held on to his body, wrapping my arms around his waist and felt his tears dampen my shirt.

"Nobody has ever called me beautiful before." His voice was shaky and he sounded like he was making an awful lot to effort to not start sobbing.

He pulled away from my shoulder, held my face in his hands and crashed his lips to mine.

The kiss was needy and messy yet soft at the same time. In a way, it felt more intimate than any other of the kisses we'd shared so far.

It was him who pulled away, far too soon might I add, and I was already pouting about it when I noticed the look on his face. His eyes were steely and he jutted his chin out in that oh-so-Simon manner.

"Simo-"

"You're so beautiful Baz." He cut of my complaint with his honeyed words.

"And perfect."

"I'm aware, thank you Snow." I said, in an attempt to make him laugh. (I don't think either of us had stopped blushing for the last ten minutes.)

It worked though. And the beautiful bubbly sound of Simon Snow's laughter filled the air and I couldn't help the purely euphoric grin that spread on my face.

"You mean everything to me. You're my whole world."

And then we were kissing again and I couldn't tell if the saltiness I tasted was from his tears or mine and I couldn't have cared less.

Because it was just him and me. The universe was our background music and nothing could touch us.

I felt like I was made of helium. Because he was there. And he was kissing me. And he might as well have just told me that he loved me.


End file.
